


a knight in rain

by breadofthewild



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Character Death, Gen, Minor Character Death, Pre-Canon, Spoilers for Pre-Timeskip | Academy Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:28:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22065535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/breadofthewild/pseuds/breadofthewild
Summary: It rained on the day of his funeral.
Kudos: 9





	a knight in rain

**Author's Note:**

> oneshot abt mr glenn fraldarius bc i love him and the childhood blue lion kiddos and u will quickly realize that since i write abt them a LOT...lol

It rained on the day of his funeral.

It was a succession of corpses, a heartbreaking reality to all of the Kingdom. Faerghus crumbled to dust that day, losing their king and their will to look forward. Prince Dimitri wouldn't utter a word to anyone, not even to his friends. The Fraldarius family, father and son, didn't dare to let any tears escape for their fallen son and brother. Ingrid, in a heap of hot tears, couldn't come to terms with any of the deaths at all. And Sylvain, the oldest and most composed, only let his tears fall when no one was looking.

"We'll remember this day of grief and loss for the rest of our lives. This tragedy stole the lives of our loved ones right before our eyes. But..." The rain poured. "Remember the names of the ones we've lost, and remember their courageous deeds most of all." Rodrigue solemnly averted his eyes to the ground, a puddle of mud at his feet. His lips were trembling.

"My son, Glenn..." Rodrigue continued, his words drowned out from the sounds of the rain. "I was—am—very proud of him. Although I cannot shake this unbearable grief as his father, my son died as a true knight. With that alone, I will always be proud."

Only Sylvain noticed Felix clenching his fists so tightly he ripped his own skin.

Ingrid sobbed. She was young, all of them were young—but nothing hurt more than the death of a lover to a teenager. She stood by Sylvain's side, his umbrella sheltering her from the rain. With his free hand, he handed her a handkerchief.

Dimitri stood alone, his eyes empty and soulless. He stood under his own umbrella, resisting any attempts of anyone trying to speak to him or to get him to say a few words for the late king. Deep down, he knew he had to act as the role of a prince, but he couldn't find the strength to. The trauma writhed in his veins and never once erased the sight of fire from his memory.

Felix stood under Sylvain's umbrella as well, the trio closely knitted even after the death of one of them. He clenched and unclenched his fists each time his father spoke, and an unspeakable rage washed over him. His eyebrows narrowed, but he didn't dare look up from the ground. He knew he would lose his temper if he did. Each time he unballed his fists, Sylvain could see the blood he had drawn from his own palms.

Even though it was his own brother he had lost, he shed the least tears.

They didn't want to look at the body. Too bloody, too gruesome, even if it was cleaned off. When Rodrigue asked if they wanted to see him one last time before they closed the coffin, neither of them said yes or no. They just went along with the rest of the families.

Glenn laid, clad in armor, a blue rose planted on his chestplate. His hands were folded at the abdomen, his eyes closed forever. His hair had been brushed out, the long navy locks flowing down his shoulders. Even though he wore his hair up everyday, they kept it down on the day of his funeral.

Dimitri was the first to step up. Nothing in his face changed, no expressions or escaped tears. His eyes remained empty, the only vision in his mind was fire. The prince couldn't shake the vivid colors of the flames, the hot sparks on his skin, the sight of blood and corpses all around him. He couldn't bring himself to ever forget what that day did to him.

Felix went second. His father had lent him an extra umbrella to separate the three of them all squeezed under one. His hands were cold when Rodrigue brushed against them, and he would never mention the rips in his son's skin in the future. Felix's hands trembled, as much as he hated it. He forced himself to compose himself, convince himself that it was just the cold causing him to shiver. But the cold never bothered Felix, not when he grew up in the cold land of Faerghus. It was the death of his brother that made him feel cold.

Sylvain and Ingrid followed Felix. Ingrid never stopped sobbing, not once, and Sylvain never stopped handing her tissues. His own tears blurred his vision ever so slightly, but he still made an effort to hide away his sorrows from everyone. He couldn't let his friends see him like this, because he was the eldest of them now. Now that...now that Glenn was gone...he was the one that would take care of them. Ingrid couldn't bring herself to say anything between the chokes of sobs, the hiccups from her chest. She continued to cry, and continued to take the tissues from Sylvain to rub at her cheeks.

The four of them will never forget this day. They will look at the sky for every day of their lives, remembering the glimpses of a knight in rain, and wonder how Glenn is doing.


End file.
